


The Right Decision

by catchmeifyoucreon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fenrir Greyback Is His Own Warning, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Minor Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, POV Narcissa Black Malfoy, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23483674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catchmeifyoucreon/pseuds/catchmeifyoucreon
Summary: Narcissa is awoken to the worst news imaginable on the night of October 31st, 1981. Well, perhaps all hope isn't yet lost, if she hasn't misjudged the one person in the world she suspects might listen to her.
Relationships: Remus Lupin & Narcissa Black Malfoy
Kudos: 13





	The Right Decision

**Author's Note:**

> A somewhat indulgent attempt at finding a route to a fix-it, because there are so many ways Sirius' fate could have been different after James and Lily's death. Hints of Remus/Sirius, but really only if you squint extremely hard. Also, a massive warning for implied sexual threat (not graphic at all, but certainly uncomfortable). Heed the tags.

“Fuck!”

Lucius’s voice was harsh in the silence of the dark room, and Narcissa was instantly awake at the sound of it. She rolled onto her back, pushing her hair out of her eyes. She could see the dark outline of her husband at the end of the bed, muttering to himself as he pulled on a shirt.

“Lucius? What’s going on?”

He stopped dead, head tilting towards her in the darkness. “Go back to sleep, Narcissa,” he said, and turned away. Narcissa groped for her wand on the table beside her bed, and heard something fall to the floor with a dull thud before she found it.

“ _Lumos_ ,” she whispered, and watched Lucius jump at the sudden intrusion of light. His face was ashen, his lips drawn into a thin, displeased line, and he was clutching a pair of socks in his hands, staring at her with a fixed expression of panic. If it had been anyone but Lucius, Narcissa would have almost found the tableau comical. “What’s happened?” she asked. “Where are you going?”

Lucius shook his head, bending to put on his socks and shoes. Narcissa watched his hair fall over his shoulders, obscuring his face from view. She resisted the urge to crawl over and brush his hair back, forcing him to look at her. Instead, she tried again, louder this time: “Lucius! What’s wrong?”

He straightened, and yanked his hair into an untidy ponytail at the back of his neck. “You’ll wake the baby,” he said. “Just go back to sleep, I’ll be back before dawn.”

“I can’t sleep while I’m worrying about where you’ll be,” said Narcissa. “Tell me what’s happened. Please, Lucius.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You’ll find out soon enough. The Dark Lord – it seems that he has fallen.”

Narcissa reeled back as if he had hit her with a stunning spell. “What? How can that be?”

“There was a plan – Harry Potter – the killing curse rebounded, and –”

Narcissa stared at him. “The Potters had a Fidelius Charm placed on them. Snape said as much.”

“Their Secret Keeper told the Dark Lord everything,” said Lucius. “The Potter brat’s parents are dead.”

“But who was the Secret Keeper?” Narcissa felt herself clutching the bedclothes so tightly that her knuckles ached. She had to know, however little she wanted to. It couldn’t be – it couldn’t. Lucius’s lip curled disdainfully.

“It was supposed to be your little black sheep of a cousin, but it was switched last minute.” His expression turned dark. “Pettigrew, the little rat. He’ll pay for this.”

“Oh,” breathed Narcissa, sinking back against the headboard of the bed. _Not Sirius. It wasn’t Sirius._ Her heart clenched. “Where are you going? What can you do now?”

“I need to see Bella and Rodolphus,” said Lucius. “They’ve called a meeting. The best thing you can do is go back to sleep. You don’t need to worry, we’ll have a plan by morning.”

Narcissa wanted to protest again, but he was already halfway through the door, and some treacherous whisper of an idea in her head kept her mouth shut. _Let him go._ She stared, unblinking, as he Apparated from the house, and remained frozen in place for a moment. Then, without a sound, she leapt up from the bed and hurried to their wardrobe. She dragged out the oldest, plainest brown robe she could find, and threw it on over her thin nightclothes.

“Dobby!” she called, fastening her buttons as quickly as she could. The House Elf appeared in a flash, bleary-eyed and bemused.

“Yes, Mistress Narcissa?”

“Look after Draco while I’m out,” she said. “And if Lucius arrives home before me, stall him downstairs for as long as you can.”

Dobby said nothing, only shifting from foot to foot, and twisting his hands with anxiety.

“Well?” snapped Narcissa, turning her wand on her hair and muttering a colour-changing spell.

“Yes, Mistress, of course,” said Dobby. “Dobby would not disobey.”

“Good,” said Narcissa. She hesitated, then added: “Thank you.”

She had no time to witness Dobby’s reaction to having received, for the first time, the gratitude of his mistress; closing her eyes, she focused on the only place she could think to go, and Apparated.

*

It was getting on for three in the morning, Narcissa realized as she hurried down a deserted side street with only one flickering lamp lighting her path. She wasn’t too far from where she wanted to be. Not that she had ever been before, of course. She turned left down a narrow passageway, and saw four men – no, not _men_ , exactly – huddled together in the doorway of a run-down building, passing around a cigarette. The tallest of the four, a hulking, hairy figure she’d only ever glimpsed from a crack in her drawing room door, was the first to spot her.

Narcissa straightened her shoulders and drew herself up as he beckoned to her, leering unpleasantly the closer she got. When she was within a few feet of the group, he licked his lips.

“What’s a thing like you doing wandering down these streets at the dead of night?” he laughed. Narcissa couldn’t help but flinch back from the hand he stretched out towards her, covered in coarse black hair. Her disgust only made him laugh harder. She could see the faded yellow stains on his sharp teeth. Those teeth had done innumerable, unspeakably vile things. He cocked his head at her.

“Why don’t you come on inside?” he said in a lower voice, inching forwards. Narcissa held her ground, fumbling inside the oversized sleeves of her robe for her wand. His arm shot out and grabbed her wrist, sending her wand to the floor with a clatter. He kicked it into the gutter.

His eyes flashed, and he pulled her closer, until she could smell his rancid breath. _Remember why you’re here. Remember –_

“No need for that all that now, is there?” he said, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “Come inside, there’s a whole host of us who’d love to say hello to a thing like you. Well, maybe do a bit more than just say hello…”

“Hands off, Greyback, this one’s mine.”

Fenrir Greyback’s grip grew tighter as he spun to face the source of the interruption. Narcissa hardly dared to breathe, let alone take the opportunity to fight him off.

“Well, well, well,” Greyback drawled, but his muscles were tensed for a fight. “Look who it is.”

Remus Lupin had grown thinner and paler since Narcissa had last seen him, almost three years ago. The bags under his eyes were as dark as ever, but the look in those eyes was more predatory than she had ever imagined him capable of. He had always been so meek at school, hiding behind Potter and – and –

A cold chill ran down her neck, like a trickle of ice-cold water had been poured onto her skin. What was she _doing_ here?

Lupin took a step closer, bending to pick up Narcissa’s wand from the gutter. He pocketed it quickly. “You heard what I said, Greyback.”

The werewolves around Greyback began to shift, ready to square up to Lupin at a word from their ringleader. After a tense few seconds, Greyback motioned for them to back off. He thrust Narcissa away from him without warning, and she stumbled straight into Lupin’s arms. His hold on her was light and unthreatening, free from the sick desire Greyback oozed from every pore. Despite the fact that Lupin was still very much a werewolf, and a werewolf with whom she had exchanged no more than five sentences in her entire life, she felt herself leaning in to him. Perhaps she hadn’t misjudged him so terribly after all.

Greyback sneered. “You can have her,” he spat. “Anything _you_ want isn’t worth the fight.” He stalked off down the street, his lackeys trailing behind.

Lupin waited until Greyback was well out of sight before he released her. She stepped back and tried to smooth her robes down, fighting the strange urge to blush or, worse, apologize. Lupin looked at her closely, then held out her wand. Narcissa took it without a word; it was a little scuffed at the base, but nothing a quick polish back home wouldn’t fix. She was reluctant to put it away after what had already happened, but she didn’t want Lupin to think she was there to attack him.

“Narcissa Black,” he said, pointedly eschewing her married name, as she slid her wand back up her sleeve. “What have you done to your hair?”

An involuntary, slightly hysterical burst of laughter rose from Narcissa’s lips. So much for hiding her identity.

“ _That’s_ your first question?” She sobered at the look on Lupin’s face. “I had to come in disguise, people can’t be recognizing me here. I need to talk to you.”

Lupin blinked. “Me?”

“Yes, is there somewhere less, well, less…” Narcissa grimaced at the ramshackle building Lupin had emerged from.

Lupin offered his arm. “My flat,” he said.

*

Lupin Apparated them directly into his flat, which was almost as shoddy as the den they’d left behind. He offered her the only seat, a threadbare armchair covered in black dog hair. Narcissa didn’t see how Lupin could afford to keep a pet, and there was no dog in sight, but it was hardly the time to ask for an explanation. Lupin stood in the corner, looking at her with an intensity that almost burned.

Now she was here, she had no idea what to say.

“What is this?” Lupin challenged, after a minute of silence. “What’s so important that you’d risk being mauled or… worse, by a bar full of werewolves?”

Narcissa swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Sirius,” she croaked.

Lupin’s entire body jolted, but he said nothing.

“You have to find him, fast,” she said. “You have to – it wasn’t him.”

“What? What wasn’t him? Narcissa!”

Narcissa looked up at the tremor in his voice; it was matched by the sheer terror in his eyes. _I made the right decision_ , she thought, dazed.

“Narcissa, tell me, please!” Lupin took two steps across the room, and _knelt_ in front of her. Narcissa sucked in a sharp breath. He closed his eyes, and whispered: “Please.”

“The Dark – He Who Must Not Be Named. He went after Harry Potter. Tonight. Your friends, they're dead.”

Lupin was on his feet again in an instant. His words sounded as though they were being wrenched from his throat. “No! No, that’s not – Sirius would never, he –”

“It wasn’t him,” Narcissa repeated. “It wasn’t him.”

“He was their Secret Keeper!”

“No!” Narcissa was standing, too, now, and she clutched at his hands, forcing him to make eye contact with her. “No, he wasn’t. He swapped. With –”

“Peter,” Lupin whispered, his voice as weak as a drowning man’s. Narcissa held his gaze. She nodded.

“Peter Pettigrew.”

“Fuck!”

Lupin had Apparated from the room before Narcissa could even register that he’d pulled away.

*

Before she went back to the scant comfort of her bed in Malfoy Manor, Narcissa wrote a note on a scrap of paper torn from the back page of a book she had given to Sirius for his thirteenth birthday.

_RL,_

_I made the right decision. Fight for him._

_NB._


End file.
